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2014.01.19 - Keeping Thine Eye In
NEVADA DESERT: Third cactus from the left. The dry dusty surroundings of the Nevada Desert are playing host to a couple of unlikely visitors. A remarkably posh looking red fabric tent has been erected, housing a sizeable campfire over which a battered looking kettle is boiling away merrily. The relative silence of the desert is shattered by a shotgun blast that echoes across the plains, accompanied a fraction of a second latter by the sound of exploded pottery. Elsa Bloodstone lowers her shotgun with a frown, before ratcheting another round into place with a *CLUNK-CLICK* of her Browning BPS twelve gauge. She glances back to her companion with a raised eyebrow and a grin. "Good lord. I thought you Asgardians were meant to be strapping great warriors. My grandmother could have hit that one with her eyes closed. And that's on my mothers side." The other unlikely visitor looks like she's risking a severe case of sunburn just by standing there, her pale complexion more at home in the northern reaches of Scandinavia than the Nevada desert. In spite of this, her only concession to the merciless sun overhead is to narrow her eyes slightly against the glare, as she tracks the clay pigeon she just threw until it is shattered by her companion's shotgun blast. Brunnhilde the Valkyrie, resplendent in jeans and a black tee shirt that bears the slogan 'Drink Mead and Praise Odin', walks forward to join Elsa as she complains, looking down at the shotgun in the other woman's hands with a thoughtful expression, before looking up with an answering grin. "My apologies. I had not expected your feeble Midgardian weapon to prove so effective." She jests, turning around to walk back toward the tent, calling back over her shoulder. "I shall try not to insult your ancestors with my next attempt!" Walking past the stack of discs, Brunnhilde leans into the tent to recover a metal tankard and takes a swig, before setting it down and selecting two of the discs. "Ready." She calls to Elsa, and when the word is given, both discs go spinning into the sky at high speed. Elsa's eyes can't help but be drawn to the tee Brunnhilde is sporting, chewing the corner of her lip to prevent a chuckle escaping for the hundredth time, feeling vaguely guilty that exposure to the modern world might be eroding the valkyries asgardian sensibilities, if only a little. "This coming from a woman who goes about her martial business armed with a giant sodding letter opener," she retorts in much the same vein. "Now there's an interesting match up. Asgardian insults versus the Bloodstone stiff upper lip. I honestly wouldn't know where to put my money." Elsa nods curtly at Valkyries indication of readiness. "Pull!" The Englishwoman looks on with approval at the two ersatz pidgeons scream into the blue overhead. "That's a bit more like it." Elsa jams the trigger down, exploding the nearer of the two targets as they race skyward. She chambers another round casually, pointedly letting the second target get a little further away, before closing one eye and dispatching it with just as much ease as the first. "Well, I think we can call that a successful test. I must have got the last of that sweet and sour sauce out of the springs after all." The monster hunter chambers another round before resting the weapon on one shoulder, turning to look at Valkyrie. "Look, you will speak up if you get bored, won't you? I just thought a change of scenery would be nice. It's not snowing or even raining pointy death from the sky, so I imagine you're hating every minute." A grin quirks Elsa's lips. Brunnhilde is not /quite/ so dense that she hasn't noticed Elsa trying not to laugh at her, but she's not about to rob the monster hunter of her amusement, and so affects not to notice. In truth, she's beginning to appreciate Midgardian humour, and the shirt was too appropriate not to purchase. She is, however, still going to have to work on understanding the system of bills that all appear the same, and not resorting to gold when she and the shop assistant inevitably reach an impasse... although something tells her that Elsa may not be the best choice to assist her in that regard. "No parts of which have ever fallen off at an inopportune moment!" The Valkyrie observes cheerfully, her grin turning rather sneaky for a few seconds before she adds, "Perhaps I should take you to Asgard, when next we have the time. You would do well in the flyting." She says that far too innocently, but just about manages to stifle a chuckle. Since she'd actually been trying properly this time, Brunnhilde's gratified that her effort meets Elsa's expectations, raising one hand to shade her eyes as she watches her companion at work. "You shoot well." She observes, and looks a little surprised when Elsa questions her, shaking her head. "Ah, Elsa Bloodstone." She says, "There is still /plenty/ of time for such things to happen this day." She snorts quietly to herself, shakes her head again, and walks up to join Elsa. "I am not bored." She says reassuringly. "But I am intrigued. Would you be offended if I fired your weapon?" Elsa's eyes narrow slightly at Valkyries callback to her Elephant Guns malfunction on a previous outing, looking like she is about to argue. She extends a gloved finger at the Asgardian. "You make a valid point," she concedes. "I didn't get the damn thing certified for troll hunting, clearly." He expression becomes one of mild confusion as Valkyrie mentions flyting. "Um. Yes. I'm sure I would. Sounds lovely." The monster hunter makes a mental note to look the word up later and add it to her growing lexicon of Asgardian grammar. Elsa shrugs good naturedly at Brunnhilde's compliment, smirking. "Well, I'd bloody hope so. I've been shooting since I was old enough to safely handle a gun." *And a bit before,* she adds silently, suppressing a shudder. At the request to handle the shotgun, Elsa quirks a surprised eyebrow. "Hang on, I thought this was a feeble midgardian weapon a couple of seconds ago!" She brings the Browning off her shoulder, pondering. "Look, as long as you promise not to break it. Its not exactly built for Asgardians." She hands the weapon off to the blonde warrior. "All right. This is a Browning BPS twelve gauge shotgun. Which...I imagine will mean approximately nothing to you. It's currently loaded, so point this bit away from me or I'll have to go looking for a new top and I loathe going clothes shopping." Elsa gingerly pushes the weapons barrel away from her with an index finger. "Right now, if you pull the trigger, it will send a load of little lead balls out this end. Then you'll have to get another round...er...explodey tube into place, by pumping this bit back. That will also eject what's left of the other round, so watch your toes. Please be incredibly gentle with it, or I imagine it will revert to its component parts in your mighty warriors grip. Then I'll have to buy a new one. It's got one round in the chamber and six left in the tube, then you...or rather I, will have to reload it." Elsa takes a few steps back, keeping an eye on the asgardian as she picks up another clay pidgeon. "With me so far? Think fast." With a casual flick of her wrist, she sends it spinning lazily out into the desert. Brunnhilde looks both amused and rather pleased with herself when Elsa both proves to have no idea what the Valkyrie just suggested, and used a form of words that could just about be taken to convey agreement. "Then I shall see what I can do." She nods decisively. "The feasting-hall might never be the same again, but it would be a small price to pay." Brunnhilde can almost imagine it now... As always, Elsa proves incapable of taking a compliment without a self-deprecating aside, and as always, Brunnhilde says nothing more. She'd half-expected Elsa to refuse to part with her weapon, so the other woman's surprise doesn't offend, and Brunnhilde shrugs. "As you say. But there may come a time when I do not have a letter opener to hand and have to make do as best I can." She accepts the shotgun respectfully. "You have my word." She tells Elsa gravely, and listens attentively, her expression betraying exactly how little the weapon's name means to her. As she allows the barrel to be nudged aside, she looks briefly intrigued, and then just as quickly crestfallen. "Indeed? That is unfortunate. If I am to blend in properly here, I shall require more Midgardian attire." Once Elsa gets on to the nuts and bolts of how the weapon works, Brunnhilde's gaze sharpens, and she drinks in every word said. "Elsa." She says dryly as her lesson finishes. "You are stronger than most mortals, and the weapon is intact. I shall not break it." As Elsa moves away, Brunnhilde hefts the minimal weight of the shotgun in her hands, looking it over to make sure she has the right of it, and then her head snaps up at Elsa's call. The shotgun moves to her shoulder and... BOOM ...she finds the pressure needed on the trigger a great deal lower than she'd expected. "That did not count!" She calls back to the red head, even as she's pumping another round into the chamber... KA-CHICK - BOOM! "By Odin's empty socket...!" Brunnhilde curses, and readies for a third shot, taking precious moments to line up properly this time. KA-CHICK - BOOM! Mere inches above the ground, the disc shatters, and the Valkyrie lets out a relieved breath, and quickly checks the shotgun over to make sure she /hasn't/ damaged it. "There is some skill to this!" She calls back to Elsa. "Another, if you would!" Elsa can't hide a broad grin as Valkyries professional pride is clearly on display as she misses with the first shot. "Of course," she retorts with a dismissive wave of her gloved hand. The Englishwoman coughs politely as another colourful Asgardian epithet is flung to the desert wind. As the third shot hits the target, Elsa's eyes widen imperceptibly. "Blimey," she murmers. Then she recalls something her father said once, about true warriors being dangerous no matter what weapon they happen to be wielding. "Right you are. You're doing splendidly, dear. Incidentally you've got four rounds left." She plucks another of the clay pidgeons of the ground. "With all due respect, I am not the person you want to go clothes shopping with. There would be casualties numbering in the hundreds, believe me. And no one knows how to bloody queue any more!" With an outflung arm she sends the target along a similar trajectory as the first, but with a little extra oomph behind it. The comments and the coughs that accompanied her first two shots were forgotten as soon as the third hit its target, and Elsa's praise is simply the icing on the cake for Brunnhilde, whose grin is really more triumphant than it has any right to be. But then, she did just save herself from abject humiliation by the smallest of margins. She nods quickly, impatient despite herself, at Elsa's reminder, then laughs at what she takes to be a jest from her companion. "Truly? At least we would be assured that we would not have competition for the items we sought!" She seems inordinately pleased with this idea, and has to spin quickly around when Elsa lets fly with the target. Again, the shotgun comes up to her shoulder, though this time she's careful to keep her finger OFF the trigger until she's actually tracking the target with both her eyes AND the gun. Sure she's got the hang of this now, Brunnhilde pulls the trigger... CLICK! With a growl, the Valkyrie realises she forgot to chamber another round after her last shot, and quickly makes good her mistake. KA-CHICK - BOOM! Brunnhilde lets out a whoop as the target disintegrates, despite her initial mistake, well above the ground this time, and the arm holding the shotgun punches the air in celebration. She looks back over her shoulder, laughing, and calls to Elsa, "I begin to see the appeal!" Turning on her heel, she walks back to the red head, keeping the shotgun barrel pointing politely away from her. "Thank you, Elsa." She says honestly, then adds with a smile, "Next time, perhaps, I shall teach you the proper handling of giant letter openers?" A brief shadow of exasperation crosses Elsa's face as once again, Valkyrie takes her at her word. Brief, as once again the monster hunter isn't sure whether the Asgardian is toying with her. Her mouth works to make a response, but she doesn't want to be accused of unsporting conduct while Brunnhilde is taking aim. However she can't help but smile as the valkyrie hits her target once again. "Well, in all honesty its a bit more fun when you're blowing something horrendous to bits, but this helps keep your eye in. Er...keeps your accuracy up." Elsa nods curtly at Valkyries gratitude. "You're welcome." She gently relieves the Asgardian of the weapon, working the mechanism to clear the spent shell and its three primed confederates, covertly checking for any bends or stress fractures on the weapon with a practised eye, despite Brunnhilde's reassurance. Her gaze meets the Asgardians as she offers lessons on swordplay. "I look forward to it. I'm not exactly a slouch with a blade myself, you know." Elsa sets the shotgun down on a blanket inside the tent, before wrapping it up tightly. She eyes the simmering kettle and the other various tea making apparatus. "Since I imagine your ale is probably the temperature of blood by now, would you like a cup of tea? Though I heard some Asgardians go in for that kind of thing," Elsa says with a smirk. Brunnhilde shoots Elsa a wry look as she translates something that the Valkyrie understood quite well the first time. But, she's forced to concede, most of the time she /needs/ the translation, so she nods her head agreeably and says, "As it should be. And it is always well to practice, for there seems no shortage of horrendous things that would benefit from being blown to bits." She allows Elsa to take back her gun without protest, and watches the woman as she checks over the weapon, a slight, knowing smile on her lips. Her brief introduction hasn't taught her enough about shotguns to know exactly what Elsa's doing - but she knows she'd check Dragonfang's edge after another had wielded the blade. She looks rather gratified when Elsa accepts her offer, and nods enthusiastically. "I remember a troll finding that out to his cost!" She chuckles quietly to herself, and adds, "Though I shall find you a blade that will not so easily be bent out of shape!" She well remembers the state of Elsa's sword after that particular fight. Following Elsa into the tent, Brunnhilde reaches for her ale - and discovers that the sun has shifted, leaving the metal flagon in the path of the sunlight slanting in through the door. "Boiling blood, I should think." She says ruefully as she sits, then her eyes flicker up to meet Elsa's. "And only on special occasions, of which this is not one. I would be grateful for a cup of your tea." And so things go - a monster hunter and an Asgardian, sitting in the Nevada desert, drinking tea and talking shop. What could be more normal? Category:Log